


Delicious Intrigue

by heretoday898



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester, Gen, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Murder, Pre-Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretoday898/pseuds/heretoday898
Summary: Dean Winchester has stopped at a motel for the night only to be woken by flashing lights, the FBI, and an intimidatingly well dressed doctor.  Only one of those is an actual threat.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just finished the first season of Hannibal. Damn. Anyway, this came about when I saw there weren't that many crossovers. I don't know if I will do more with the Hannibal fandom, it's a bit difficult to write from a serial killing cannibal's perspective. I'll have to watch more (obviously) to see if I can get everyone's speech patterns and whatnot down. 
> 
> Anyways enjoy! 
> 
> As always all mistakes are my own and I do not own these characters.

Dean decided to stop for the night, it had been a solid drive to Baltimore from their last hunt in Maine and he was beat. The ten hours had been quiet, Dean driving solo for once since Sam had decided to stay with Elaine up in Maine for a small couple’s getaway. Dean rolled his eyes as he climbed out of the Impala, they deserved it, even if Elaine was way too good for Sammy. Dean stretched as he eyed the flickering motel sign. The red vacancy light slowly losing its battle in the waning light. Dean grabbed his duffle bag and ambled into the lobby, an easy smile on his face as he booked a room for the night. The two beds that greeted him were a habit he never bothered to break, not after so long. He tossed the duffle onto the bed closest the door and promptly flopped down on the other. 

It had been a grueling hunt. Even with Elaine and Cas being there, the hunt kicked his ass. The town had been overrun with witches. The real nasty kind. The harvesting human organs and ritual sacrificing kind. Dean had caught the head bitch chowing down on some poor guy’s heart, a kid tied up in the corner, terrified but alive. Dean didn’t know what the ritual was; Sam had spouted off something about ancient forbidden Celtic practices, but Dean had tuned him out. His job was clear and simple by that point. Not that it stopped the coven from fighting back. Dean’s knee and shoulder did not appreciate the fight they put up. Dean groaned into the mattress. Even after Cas healed him, Dean would swear he felt a dull throb throughout his body. It never seemed to go away these days. 

****

Red and blue flickered across Dean’s eyelids, jarring the hunter awake. Adrenaline coursed through Dean’s body as he slid out of the motel bed, gun in hand and peeked out the window, curtain barely moving. With a curse, Dean tore his eyes away from the scene. He couldn’t believe it; no way was his luck this bad. A quick look outside again and Dean realized all the commotion wasn’t for him. The cops were milling around too much, and Dean caught sight of a forensics unit pulling in next to the ambulance. Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, unfortunately his Baby was blocked in by the multiple cruisers and unmarked SUVs. Dean paused and swore again. The feds were in those SUVs. Dean did not need to deal with the FBI. After all, he couldn’t remember if he was technically dead to them or not. Definitely best to avoid them after the whole fiasco with Lucifer and the President. 

Dean sat back down on the bed, gun hanging limp between his knees as he listened to the muffled voices outside. It wasn’t long until footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. Doors were slowly opened as guests were questioned and told to remain calm. Dean slipped his gun back under the pillow just as knuckles rapped on his door. A quick scan of the room and Dean pulled the door open. 

The man on the other side already had his badge raised and stern dark eyes trained on Dean. Standing behind the agent was another man in a sharp three-piece suit, eyes blank and assessing. Dean leaned against the door frame and gave both men a tired smile. 

“Agent,” Dean nodded to the man flashing his badge.

“Jack Crawford,” the agent’s deep voice echoed down the hall, “sorry to disturb you so early.”

“Don’t worry about it Agent Crawford, the light show woke me up first,” Dean shrugged while Crawford tipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“Yes, unfortunately this motel has now become an active crime scene and I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises for the time being,” Crawford’s eyes were barely apologetic as they swept the room behind Dean.

“That won’t be a problem agent,” Dean nodded with a smile, “but your boys in blue are going to have to move their cruisers, they’re blocking me in.” 

“You can let them know yourself,” Crawford raised an eyebrow, “they’ll be around in ten minutes to escort you out.”

“That works too,” Dean smiled as Crawford and his unnamed, fancy companion stepped back and let Dean close the door.

Flipping the lock, Dean grabbed his duffle and pulled out a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and flannel before making his way to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, duffel in hand and gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans when the knock came. Keys in hand, Dean shrugged his jacket before he opened the door. 

Dean paused in the threshold. It wasn’t some tired eyed cop standing on the other side. No cop could afford that suit, not unless he was crooked and in deep with the mafia. Sam’s voice chimed in Dean’s head that he was confusing reality with movies again, at least this time it wasn’t porn. 

“Didn’t get your name,” Dean flashed a smile as he shut the door behind him.

“Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” the smooth, cultured voice was accented from somewhere Dean couldn’t place. 

“Where’d the FBI dig you up?” Dean eyed the doctor as they made their way down the hall. 

“I am a consultant, Mister –,” Lecter patiently paused as they made their way to the exit. 

“Mills, Bobby Mills,” Dean gave the name he gave the front desk. 

“Mister Mills,” Lecter nodded, and Dean hasn’t seen so much gravitas to a person’s actions since the first Horsemen he met. 

The thought brought him up short, just as they exited the motel. Dean’s escort paused beside him, head lit up with the flashing colors of sirens and tilted towards Dean. Lecter’s eyes were dark as they crawled over Dean, his hunter instincts clamoring to the surface. 

“Well Doc, thanks for the escort,” Dean held out a hand, silver ring glinting blue in the lights.

Doctor Lecter looked at Dean’s outstretched, calloused palm and after a moment fit his own smooth palm against the hunter’s. Dean’s shoulders relaxed a fraction when nothing happened as silver brushed skin. It still didn’t mean anything, but it ruled some things out. With a firm squeeze, Dean let go of the doctor’s hand. Dean moved past Lecter and for a moment he could have sworn the doctor leaned in and took a whiff. Dean glanced back, brow furrowed and met those dark eyes and impassive face. Dean’s eyes hardened as he turned back to the Impala. 

“You aren’t wondering if you will get reimbursed?” the doctor’s voice called out as Dean was unlocking the Impala. Dean tossed his duffle in the back seat before turning back to the man. 

“Nah Doc,” Dean smiled, “I don’t mind being out fifty bucks. I’m guessing the other guests haven’t been as good about it?” 

“No, certainly not as understanding,” Lecter glanced between the Impala and Dean. 

“Well Doc, I’m a stand-up guy and the motel has way more things to worry about,” Dean snorted as he gestured to the cops milling about. One of the officers thankfully realized Dean was blocked in and promptly got in the cruiser to move it. Dean nodded his thanks.

“You are not even remotely interested in what happened?” Lecter’s voice was light, curious as Dean’s eyes drifted over the parking lot. 

“Sure, I am,” Dean’s gaze landed back on the doctor and let the silence sit.

“But not curious enough to stay and wait for the gossip,” Lecter said.

“I’m just passing through Doc,” Dean smiled as he opened the driver’s side door, “this gossip doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Dean’s Baby rumbled to life as the door slammed shut. Dean looked out the passenger window to find dark eyes still on him. With a final nod in the doctor’s direction, Dean pulled out of the parking lot and drove off in search of some coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is all being posted at once :)
> 
> As Always all mistakes are my own and I do not own these characters.

Dean hadn’t been driving long when his Baby started to smoke. With a curse, Dean pulled over before he started muttering sweet reassurances to his car. Dawn wasn’t yet creeping over the trees, so Dean grabbed a flashlight as he climbed out and popped the hood. Dean jerked his head back as steam billowed out. Flashlight in hand, Dean surveyed the Impala and noticed one of the cooling pipes knocked out of alignment. Dean cocked his head with a frown. Nothing was out of place the last time he gave his Baby a tune up. Shucking his jacket, Dean pulled off his flannel and wrapped it around his hand, reaching in to reset the pipe. It was hot, even through the shirt and Dean cursed again. It wasn’t working, Dean was going to need a bit more leverage. Dean paused at the sound of an approaching car. The vehicle coming to a stop behind the Impala, high beams shining on Dean. 

“Hey buddy, you mind?” Dean squinted into the light as the driver got out. 

The tall, backlit silhouette didn’t answer. Dean subtly reached behind himself, palm making contact with the gun tucked into his waistband. The space between them was charged, thick with the unknown. Adrenaline pricked at Dean’s skin. The man sprung forward, and Dean yanked his gun out and up, firing off a round which grazed the man’s shoulder. Dean grunted as the man’s body slammed into him, his fist gripping the man’s coat. The force was enough to knock both men to the ground with Dean’s wrist purposefully slammed against the asphalt, gun skittering away. A flash of steel and the supposedly good Doctor Lecter’s face were the last things Dean saw. 

****

Dean’s lips smacked together as a throbbing pressure made itself known in his skull. Everything felt heavy, blanketed. Dean tried to groan, but his throat constricted around the sound. It was dark as Dean pried his eyes open. The all-consuming scent of rain dampened earth finally reached his nose. Dean smacked his lips again and wished he never knew the taste of dirt.

“Hello Dean,” Cas’ rough voice sank into Dean’s skin, “someone murdered you.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean’s voice cracked, his throat protesting, “not someone, I know exactly who it was.”

Dean took a breath and raised a hand which Cas thankfully grasped and heaved the hunter up onto his feet. Dean stretched his limbs, back cracking as he shook everything out. Eyes slowly adjusting to the dark forest around them. 

“Where’s my car?” Dean demanded as he jerked around. Cas calmly grabbed his shoulder, turning Dean and pointing him towards Baby. 

“That fucker is dead,” Dean snapped as he took in the sight of the Impala which had been carelessly driven off the road, the streetlights just barely shining on her body. 

“Dean, who attacked you?” Cas asked as they started walking to the Impala.

“Doctor Hannibal Lecter, consultant to the FBI,” Dean growled, “wonder if the FBI knows they’ve got a lunatic working for them.”

“He took your liver,” Cas said after a beat.

“What?” Dean stopped short and looked at his friend.

“It was expertly removed,” Cas commented as he intently looked at Dean. 

“You think he’s selling it? Using it in some ritual?” Dean frowned as they moved forward again, finally reaching the Impala.

“Your liver wouldn’t fetch much or be of any use in a transplant,” Cas gave Dean a slightly withering look. 

“Alright, so a ritual,” Dean said as he looked over his car and found the keys still in the ignition. 

Cas stayed silent as they began to get the Impala back up to the road. It didn’t take long, not with the angel there and soon Dean and Cas were pulling away, headed back towards Baltimore. 

“What? You think I’m just gonna let this bastard get away with disrespecting Baby like that and taking my liver,” Dean caught Cas’ side eye once the angel realized where they were going. 

“I suppose it was too much to hope for,” Cas sighed. 

“You gonna save me if he kills me again?” Dean flashed a smile at Cas. 

“It’s not funny Dean,” the angel’s face pinched in annoyance.

“Come on, it’s a little funny,” Dean cajoled, “plus, you know it’s fun to see people’s faces after we come back to life.”

Cas rolled his eyes and shifted in the passenger seat. Dean chuckled, his foot pressing down on the accelerator. 

****

It was a bright Tuesday afternoon when Dean parked a few blocks away from Doctor Hannibal Lecter’s practice. The pompous house matched everything Dean had learned about the doctor. Dean and Cas had spent two days learning everything they could to prep for this confrontation. What they uncovered, well, let’s just say Dean was thrilled he was just left in the woods with only his liver taken. With everything he discovered, Dean wasn’t surprised any longer that the FBI had no idea what was in their midst. After all, Dean wouldn’t have been able to find anything out if it weren’t for Cas. The angel had followed Lecter around for two days and reported back to Dean. Dean didn’t see Cas unnerved often, but after those two days, Cas was wide-eyed and plastered to Dean’s side. He was adamantly against Dean confronting Lecter. Dean wasn’t one to turn tail though, and Cas knew that which was why the angel was accompanying Dean, albeit invisibly. 

Dean stopped in front of the wooden door leading to Lecter’s office, he couldn’t see Cas, but he could feel his warmth. Dean straightened his shirt and plastered a pleasant smile on his face before he knocked. 

Doctor Hannibal Lecter’s face went momentarily slack as the door was fully opened. Dean struggled to keep his smile contained, bland and impersonal. Those dark eyes sharpened as they roved across Dean’s face, the man collecting himself not a moment later. It was truly impressive, and Dean was man enough to admit he would have been hard press to notice anything if he wasn’t looking for it. 

“Doctor Lecter,” Dean greeted, hand outstretched, “Bobby Mills, we met the other night.”

“Of course, Mr. Mills,” Lecter’s lips twitched as he gestured for Dean to step inside.

“Swanky place Doc,” Dean whistled as he made a show of looking around, “was almost too nervous to come in when I saw it.”

“Well, I am glad you decided to join me,” Lecter steered Dean to one of the plush chairs in the center of the room. 

“I gotta admit Doc, I just had the weirdest encounter after I left the motel that night,” Dean began as Lecter took a seat across from him.

The doctor tilted his head, silent as he waited for Dean to continue.

“And I thought, well, who could help me make sense of it,” Dean looked earnestly at the other man.

“I am glad you thought to look me up and subsequently felt the need to confide in me,” Lecter did not give an inkling of emotion in those fathomless eyes.

“You and me both,” Dean leaned back against the chair, “I’ve never felt the need to see a shrink before, but this, well, I just had to talk to someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or Kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, I wrote it in like less than 2 days (I might have written a bit at work...)
> 
> I tried out Hannibal's POV
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading!
> 
> As always all mistakes are mine and I do not own these characters.

Hannibal hadn’t felt this unmoored since he was a child. It should not be possible for the man sitting across him to be there. Yet Bobby Mills was sitting comfortably in his patient’s usual chair, chattering away. Breathing. If Hannibal wasn’t so certain of himself, he would think a mistake had been made. But no, Hannibal had killed this man, harvested his liver, and driven the car off the road. He had. The liver was marinating at this very moment. Hannibal had plans to dine with Will tonight, this man’s liver was the main course. 

Murmuring encouraging words by rote, Hannibal truly looked at the man in front of him. Other than the ridiculous façade the man was putting on for Hannibal, nothing stood out from what the doctor originally observed. His vernacular annoyed Hannibal even if many would consider his voice pleasing. Broad shoulders with a rough swagger, Hannibal could see the charm the man had the capability to exude. Bobby Mills was handsome. But Bobby Mills was alive. Hannibal’s gaze finally rested on Mr. Mills eyes and would not be moved. The night had hidden them from Hannibal, then the too bright high beams, now in the full glory of the afternoon sun, Hannibal saw what was before him. Hannibal should have taken his eyes. Those eyes were the only part that spoke the truth. 

“Mr. Mills, I am for anyone who needs someone to speak to, in whatever capacity,” Hannibal watched the fake smile spread over the man’s face. Those green eyes glinting with challenge. 

Hannibal’s blood began to rush, sing with the call of the hunt that was before him. He watched the same feeling flicker through Mr. Mills’ eyes. What a truly interesting day this had become. 

“Before we begin though,” Hannibal paused as he let his words ring, “I believe therapy is only helpful when all parties are honest with themselves and each other.”

A sharp laugh rang out, disbelieving mirth danced across green eyes. That body shifted where it sat, a contemplative look falling over handsome features. The shrug a moment later was practiced in its nonchalance. 

“Dean Winchester,” Bobby Mills – Dean Winchester – leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he smiled at Hannibal, teeth flashing. 

Yes, that name fit what was before Hannibal so much more.

“I believe I know why you are here Dean,” Hannibal said.

“You disrespected my Baby,” Dean snapped, jaw tight.

The comment puzzled Hannibal. There were no infants involved at any point in his and Dean’s interactions. Hannibal scanned the face in front of him a moment before it became clear.

“Your car,” disbelief almost colored his voice. 

“Yeah, my car,” Dean’s voice was gruff, “no one hurts Baby, she doesn’t deserve that kind of disrespect.”

“And here I thought you were upset about my killing you,” Hannibal mused, blinking and reassessing as Dean scoffed.

“Right,” Dean smirked, “look Doc, you’re not the first and you obviously won’t be the last thing to do that.”

Intrigued beyond measure, Hannibal stood abruptly, Dean quickly following suit. Hannibal closed the distance between them with slow measure steps, watching Dean’s eyes. A challenge was held in them again, no fear, no uncertainty. Hannibal’s hands rose and bracketed Dean’s face, thumbs resting on cheekbones. 

“I gotta say Doc,” Dean’s cheeks pulled under Hannibal’s hands, “of all the organs to take and eat, I would not have recommended my liver.”

Hannibal snapped his neck.

****

Hannibal swirled his glass of wine as he stared down at the man lying bare on his table. Dean Winchester. A man he has killed twice now. Hannibal only had a few hours until Will came for dinner, a few hours to decide what to do with this creature. That is, if Dean Winchester didn’t wake again. A quiver of anticipation worked its way through Hannibal as he took a sip of wine. 

Dean Winchester’s flesh matched his eyes. Before, it had been too dark, and Hannibal had not fully removed any of the man’s clothes to take his liver. He had missed this canvas. Hannibal’s fingers trailed along the scars littered across Dean’s body, firm as he took in every truth. He fitted his hand against the largest located on Dean’s shoulder, his fingers slightly longer than the ones seared into this man’s shoulder. Hannibal placed his glass down on a side table and picked up a knife. 

A knock sounded on Hannibal’s door. Will was early, of course Will was early.

****

Dean came awake with a start; Cas’ hand planted firmly on his chest. A fierce scowl graced the angel’s face and Dean mumbled an apology. Yes, Cas had been right, Dean wasn’t surprised, not really. Though, he wasn’t looking forward to the car ride where he would have to hear about it. Dean groaned as he looked down at himself and noticed his naked chest, only his boxers remained. 

“Where is he?” Dean looked around for his clothes, noticing them piled up neatly off to the side.

“Speaking with a young man, Will Graham, also a consultant for the FBI,” Cas said, head tilted as he looked at the door.

“A young man huh?” a sly smile spread across Dean’s face.

“No Dean,” Cas’ head whipped around at Dean’s tone, a disapproving frown already growing. 

“Don’t be like that, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say,” Dean pouted as he slipped into his jeans. 

“This man has killed you twice Dean,” Cas snapped, “stop antagonizing him.”

“It’s what I’m good at,” Dean grumbled as he bent down to shove his boots on, “now please.”

Cas sighed and disappeared with a nod. Dean smiled and grabbed the rest of his clothes, forgoing any shirts and jacket. He cracked the door and listened to the low buzz of voices down the hall. The smell of what was cooking hit Dean, a mouthwatering whiff that had Dean cringing. Dean silently shut the door behind him and crept down the hall, the voices getting clearer. Dean paused in the shadow of the threshold just as a soft laugh echoed in what Dean assumed was the kitchen. Dean mused his hair and bit his lips until they were warm before he stepped into the kitchen.

“Hannibal,” Dean’s smile was vacant, sugary sweet, “why didn’t you say you were having company?”

The two men in front of Dean stilled instantly and if Dean thought the look on Lecter’s face earlier today was awesome, it was nothing compared to the one now. Shock was there for all to see this time, coupled with seething disgust that Dean, honestly felt a bit offended by before the impassiveness dropped down again. But it was enough. It was enough for Lecter’s guest, Will Graham’s attention to turn away from Dean and to the man beside him. Will’s face went through a series of complicated expressions before settling on polite confusion as he glanced between Dean and Lecter. 

“Well, Hannibal seems to have lost his manners, I’m Bobby Mills,” Dean walked forward and held out his hand. 

Graham’s eyes were comically wide, and Dean just knew it was because of his jab at Lecter. Dean didn’t doubt for a moment the doctor ever lost his manners and to imply so, well, Graham obviously thought Dean was out of his mind.

“Will Graham,” Graham spoke softly, eyes barely reaching Dean’s gaze. 

“Lovely to meet you Will,” Dean winked before he turned to Lecter.

“Hannibal, darlin’,” Dean drawled, “I know this was only a one, well, two-time thing, so I’ll just leave you to it.”

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Bobby?” Lecter’s eyes were burning, voice pleasant. 

“Nah, I couldn’t possibly do that,” Dean had to focus to keep the disgust off his face, “besides, looks to me like you got a real date going on.”

Graham choked on nothing, face going red as Lecter’s eyes flattened, nostrils flared. Elation swelled up in Dean, a cocky grin spreading over his face. Graham’s blush spread to his neck and ears as he glanced furtively at Lecter and Dean. Dean chuckled and knew without a doubt that if he stayed a moment longer, it wasn’t just his liver that was going to be for dinner. 

“Well, I best be off,” Dean smiled at Graham, “you enjoy that liver he’s got cooking.”

“Let me walk you to the door,” Lecter moved forward, shoulders tense.

“Now that would be the polite thing to do,” Dean threw another wink over his shoulder at Graham, the man clearly gob smacked.

Dean shrugged on his shirts and jacket as they made their way to the front door, Lecter pausing with his hand on the knob. 

“I don’t know what you are Dean Winchester,” those intense, emotionless eyes locked on Dean, “but if you in any way jeopardize my work with Will Graham, I will hunt you down and devour you so there is nothing left to come back.”

“Currently, I’m human,” Dean grinned as he gripped the knob over Lecter’s hand, opening the door, “you might want to make sure you stay that way. After all Doc, there’s consequences to consuming human flesh and if you tip over that line, I’ll be the one hunting you.”

Dean walked out into the night and didn’t turn back. He didn’t need to see Lecter watching with him those predator eyes. This wasn’t Dean’s type of monster. At least, not yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or Kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments or Kudos!


End file.
